


Walking Disasters (You & I)

by gloomboyz



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Body Positivity AU, Body Worship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Smut, Sort Of Asshole!Frank, Sweetheart!Gerard, Texting, Tumblr AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomboyz/pseuds/gloomboyz
Summary: Frank is an insecure piece of shit who pretends that he isn't, but totally is. After being recommended a body positivity blog for guys on Tumblr, Frank's life begins to change. Probably.





	Walking Disasters (You & I)

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys enjoy this!!  
> (the title of the story is based on the song walking disasters by the wombats. definitely recommend you check that song out/check the wombats out)  
> (8/28/17 edit: fixed up some minor formatting issues that i didn't check before publishing! sorry for the weird formatting that had been there at first !!)

This was stupid, Frank thought. This whole thing was stupid. He hadn’t even had a Tumblr before now, but he was quickly realizing how stupid of a website it was. Why he had even agreed to do this, and actually follow through with it, Frank didn’t know. But he was here now and there was no fucking going back.

It was a common thing for the human species to, at one point or another in their lives, totally fucking hate themselves. But when Frank mentioned even the tiniest disdain for his recent weight gain to Jamia, she had seemingly thought that, no, that was _not_ normal, and that Frank needed a big ‘ol dose of self love. Which he did _not_. But Jamia was Frank’s best friend, and if she insisted that scrolling through some blog probably run by forty-year-old hermits living in their mother’s basements, then Frank was going to listen. Jamia was wise as fuck, but he supposed that just came with having twins, twins that had technically started this all, after Jamia had become pregnant with them and had suffered through a serious case of postpartum self loathing. Frank adored Lily and Cherry like they were his own daughters, but right now, he couldn’t help but blame the poor toddlers for his hatred of the situation he was in.

The Tumblr website was unnecessarily hard to navigate, but Frank had somehow managed to set up an account and find the search bar on his dashboard, in which he typed the words ‘male body positivity’. Jamia had recommended he searched something of the sort, as it would be the easiest way to find a good, quality blog with what he was looking for. If you could call any blog a ‘quality’ one. Frank clicked the first thing that popped up, and was greeted by the hashtag for the term, before clicking on the first blog that popped up. He went to their website, ‘bodyposi4boys.tumblr.com’ and literally verbally groaned at it, despite being completely alone in his apartment (aside from being with his baby girl, his dog Sweet Pea), especially at the bright and flowery layout of the blog. 

“This was such a shitty ideeeeeaaaaaaa,” He whined out into the quiet room to no one in particular. Somewhere else in the apartment, Sweet Pea barked seemingly in response, making Frank groan louder. He clicked on the ‘about’ link to the left of the page, wanting to see what this shitshow was all about. 

•••

_Hello, welcome to the about page of the bodyposi4boys blog! My name is Mod L, and I run this account with my friends Mod G and Mod R. Here, we reblog and make posts that are all about body positivity for boys from all walks of life. Cis boys, trans boys, gay boys, straight boys, white boys, black boys, skinny boys, fat boys and everyone in between! You can also find this place as a safe space to communicate your insecurities and seek out support and advice from other people, including the other mods and I, as to how you can learn to love yourself, by dropping into our ask and submit boxes, and also by asking us personally in our pms. Learning to love yourself is not an easy process, but we here at bodyposi4boys hope to make it an easier and safer journey for you while you’re on the path to self love, no matter your insecurities and imperfections!_

_You can find my personal blog @basswitch, Mod G’s personal blog @hesitantalien, and Mod R’s personal blog @edgelord666_

_-Mod L_  

••• 

Just by reading the about page, Frank knew that the whole thing was complete and utter bullshit, and closed out of the tab, haphazardly slamming the lid of his laptop closed. He didn’t need this. Frank didn’t need _any_ of this. He had all the self love help he needed when he thrashed around, dived into the audience, and screamed his lungs out at his band, Leathermouth’s, shows. Sure, the shows didn’t exactly make him feel better about himself, per se, but they let him brew in his self hatred of his body, and that was enough for Frank.

Fuck the blog for being bullshit, fuck Mod L and Mod G and Mod R for being too happy when Frank clearly wasn’t, fuck Jamia for even recommending the idea, and fuck himself for being such a dumb fat ass who hated himself, just because he didn’t have abs. 

+++

It was three am. That was what Frank was blaming him going on the blog again on this time. It wasn’t like he actually _wanted_ to go on the blog; he was just tired and sleep deprived and not thinking straight. The post he was currently looking at had something to do with binders for trans males, which didn’t really concern him but he was bored and reading every post on the blog and shut up. Truthfully, he didn’t even know what a binder was before finding the post on the blog, so at least he was learning something. Probably.  

Frank pouted at the screen, scrolling down a little more to look at a question that Mod G had answered. It had something to do with how one could easily feel more confident so to wear a specific article of clothing, and, as per usual, Mod G’s answer was overly-peppy and overly-kind and disgustingly helpful. In fact, Frank considered the tips Mod G had given for the next outfit he wanted to wear at the next Leathermouth show. He wasn’t sure about it, because the next show was going to be at an outdoor arena on a specifically hot day, so Frank considered wearing just a t-shirt, with no other layers like he usually wore. But, because of his size, he wasn’t so sure. But, after reading the tips Mod G had given, like, “Try to put yourself in the mindset of people who are going to see you in the outfit. Are they really going to care about what you look like, or is it just in your head?” or that “You should wear clothing that fits you, and makes you happy. Nothing else should matter.” Frank really did actually appreciate the tips as he had-

Wait, what the fuck was he going on about? An hour ago he had considered Mod G the most annoying and worst mod on the blog, but now he was praising the bullshit he was spewing? Jesus, it made Frank feel like a pansy. He didn’t care about his weight, he didn’t think he was disgusting or had a flabby stomach or chubby thighs or a fat face. No, he didn’t care at all, because he was tough as fuck and didn’t give a shit about what he looked like or what other people thought of him.

But then again, he kinda did.

Not like he’d ever admit it, but, yeah. Whatever.

Frank clicked on the ask box, immediately clicking on the anonymous feature. “Do you have any advice on how to come to terms with your insecurity? Like, how do you face the fact that you hate yourself?” He typed, hitting submit before closing out of the tab, groaning in frustration for what felt like the thousandth time that week. 

+++

As much as Frank didn’t like to admit it, Tumblr was addicting as fuck. And terrible on mobile, like everyone had said, but it was convenient. In Frank’s free time that he wasn’t playing at shows or working his sort of dead end job at a Guitar Center the shitty part of Jersey City or doing whatever the fuck Frank usually did (i.e. photography, songwriting, drinking to forget how miserable he was, etc.), he was on Tumblr. He had begun following quite a few blogs, mostly ones that had to do with bands he liked. He had specifically sworn not to follow any other body positivity blogs, because they were dumb as fuck, and Frank didn’t want to see them on his dashboard. Except, of course, for the bodyposi4boys blog. What? He was still waiting for his ask to be answered. He couldn’t just  _not_ follow them and live in the suspense forever.

Speaking of that, Frank refreshed his notifications just one more time, seeing if anyone new had followed him or reblogged his posts or something. He was thriving on the attention. Even if it was a little unhealthy. Frank didn’t give two shits. What he wasn’t expecting to see, but did see anyway, though, was the notification reading ‘your ask has been answered!’ Curious, he clicked on it. 

•••

**_Anonymous asked: Do you have any advice on coming to terms with your insecurity? Like, how do you face the fact that you hate yourself?_ **

_Well, I can’t really say that me or any of the other mods have really experienced this, unfortunately! But, I think the best advice I can give you is taking time to think about yourself. To me, it sounds like you don’t like to think about your insecurities or problems, but you do recognize you have them. The first step in a situation like this would be to acknowledge the fact that, yeah, you aren’t super comfortable with your body. Take the time to list exactly what you don’t like about yourself. There, you can start working on accepting and loving these specific insecurities. Take a moment one day to just look at yourself in the mirror, and think. The first step to solving any problem is acknowledging it._

_Mod G <3_ 

••• 

Well, Frank thought, that was an absolute waste of fucking time. He frowned as deep as he could as he read and reread the message again, making him more and more annoyed each time he read it. He already knew he hated himself, he acknowledged it, Bam, step number one done. Fuck you, Mod G. Plus, who would want to just stand in front of the mirror and point out what they hated most about themselves? Frank certainly didn’t want to. If anything, that would make Frank hate himself more. Which was the exact fucking opposite of what he wanted. Thanks for literally nothing at all, Mod G. Frank rolled his eyes into oblivion, before pocketing his phone. He had a show to waste his energy and destroy his vocal chords on. 

+++ 

The next night, Frank found himself standing in front of his mirror with nothing on but boxers. He couldn’t remember why he had decided to do it, but the decision happened only moments ago, meaning Frank had intended to forget why he had made the decision. Who cared. 

Mentally, Frank began tallying off all the things he didn’t like about himself physically, like Mod G had suggested and like Frank swore he wasn’t going to do. Yet, here he was. Frank sighed through his nose. He poked at his belly, feeling the soft, inked skin give under his finger, creating a dimple in the fat. Frank wrinkle up his nose, already feeling the disgust rise within him. Next, he moved down to his thighs, wrapping his hands around them. When he took his hands away, they jiggled with the movement. Frank’s lip curled into a snarl. He lifted his arms up, shaking them and seeing them jiggle, before going up to his face and running his hands down it, scratching his hands on his stubbly beard and mustache. He poked at his chubby cheek and felt the slight double chin he had, before holding his hands out in front of them, stretching his fingers and noticing how much his fingers looked like fucking sausages. He began to study his face, noticing all the strange little details about it. The scar he had above his nose, how his eyebrows were strangely thin, how his beard didn’t quite match his hair color, and how thin his lips were. 

God, he was one ugly motherfucker. 

In some sense, he supposed he did feel a little better, now knowing just what he hated about himself. But not by much. Maybe a new tattoo would help, he decided. Getting tattoos always made him feel better, and he had the money, so why not. He’d decide on what he wanted and where when he got to the shop. He quickly pulled on some clothes that barely fit anymore (he really needed to go shopping, maybe he’d go when he was done getting inked), found his wallet and keys, and called out to his apartment, letting Sweet Pea know that he’d be gone. Like she would understand. Or care. Frank couldn’t help the grimace that spread over his face as he left, locking his door. God, not only was he fat and ugly, but completely fucking alone too. 

+++ 

**_Anonymous asked: Hey, insecurity doubting anon here. So, I finished the first step, what next? What’s the next step to loving yourself?_ **

_You have to keep in mind that any advice that I or the other mods here give is fairly relative. Everyone’s self love journey is different, so you’re going to have a different process than I would, or that Mod R would, or that Mod L would, or that anyone else would. But, I can recommend that the next step for you, perhaps, would be to do something nice for yourself. Buy some new clothes, get a haircut, or, hell, maybe get a tattoo? Something that will make you feel happy about yourself in some sense. It’s a small step in the self love process, but it’s a very important one. Small steps often make it easier, so, yeah, start small. If you want to talk privately to me or another mod, don’t hesitate to pm us! I promise, none of us are going to judge you about anything. This is a totally judgement free zone, lovely!_

_Mod G <3 _

••• 

Frank found it kind of funny that he had just done two of the three things Mod G had recommended to him two days ago. Tattoos already made him feel better automatically, and he was in dire need of new clothes anyway, so that step was done and over with. Frank decided he would wait a little longer to ask for a new step. He didn’t want it to seem like he actually cared about the blog or anything, no. Plus, he still found Mod G to be kind of annoying and overly happy all the time, especially after they had called Frank ‘lovely’. Frank knew it was just a mindless pet name, but still. It irked him. It’s not like he was so totally insecure in his masculinity to the point where he got uncomfortable being called pet names by strangers or anything, he just didn’t like it. Maybe if he knew Mod G, it would be fine. But he did not. So it was weird. And he did not want to know Mod G, so it was double weird.

Frank pulled out the warm, now dry, new clothes from his dryer, piling them up in a laundry basket. He had bumped up two sizes, and had gone through a lot of his old clothes, throwing out stuff he knew he was never going to be able to fit in again, no matter how much weight he lost. He wasn’t 20 anymore, after all. Both of those things hadn’t made him feel very good. He knew he had gained quite a bit of weight, but did he really gain so much so that he needed to get clothes two sizes or more bigger than his old stuff? And did he really have to throw away half of his wardrobe because of it? The thought pissed Frank off more than it did disturb him or make him sad at that moment, getting irrationally angry at his shitty immune system, and the shitty, strange version of the flu he had contracted which had caused him to be put on shitty meds that made him gain so much weight as a side effect. Frank wanted to kick something, or scream, or maybe angrily type a three thousand word rant on Tumblr about how much he hated the whole situation, about how much he hated himself.

Instead, he angrily folded his clothes, causing them to become rumpled and undone by the time he frustratedly threw them in their respective drawers in Frank’s dresser.

+++

Visiting his parents’ house was never Frank’s favorite thing to do. He loved his parents, he really did, but every time he visited their place, the visit usually ended in his parents yelling at each other, or yelling at him. Neither of which he particularly wanted to experience. Especially since his weight gain; he hadn’t visited his parents since it occurred, and he already knew his mother was going to be a particularly harsh judge of character.

His mother was a petite woman, always remaining very short and skinny. Frank assumed he inherited his height from her, which he always sort of hated her for. Like she could help it. When she greeted him at the door with her frizzy hair in a messy bun and looking more frizzy than usual, along with a deep scowl on her face, Frank already knew it would be a particularly terrible visit. 

“Hi, Ma.” He said timidly, giving her a half wave and smiling fakely. She continued to scowl. “Uh, can I come in?” She opened the door wider, before stepping away and rushing back into the kitchen. Frank stepped into the living room, seeing his father in his usual spot on his large, leather recliner. He took a seat on the couch next to it, vaguely paying attention to the rerun of Jeopardy that was playing on his parents’ tv.  

“What’s her problem today?” He quietly asked his father, who grunted in response. 

“She’s been tryna make a hell of a meal since she said you were too skinny last time we saw ‘ya. Better appreciate it, or she might just cut off both of our heads with that butcher’s knife of hers.” He mumbled. Frank gulped. He certainly didn’t need one of his mother’s huge, fatty meals anymore. She probably knew that too, now, which was why she was scowling so hard. She had worked so hard on a meal for Frank, only for him to show up at her doorstep nearly forty pounds heavier than when she last saw him. He leaned away from his father, and looked back to the tv, waiting for his mom to call them to dinner.

The dinner table was uncomfortably silent as they ate, the only sounds being forks and knives clattering on the plates. Frank’s mom always made killer vegan lasagna, especially when it was for him, but tonight, he couldn’t help but feel guilty as fuck. Every time he took a bite, his mom gave him a dirty look, and Frank’s appetite decreased.

“You know Frank, you’re getting a little pudgy.” She commented about halfway through the meal, making Frank freeze. He knew she was going to say something eventually, and now that she had, Frank felt sick. He had told himself that he didn’t give a shit about what people thought of him, but his parents were a different story.

“Uh, yeah, I-I guess. It’s just, I got the flu a month or so ago and the meds I took made me-”

“You know, I have friends who work at gyms and as personal trainers and such, maybe I could get them to give you free workout sessions or something.” Frank internally groaned, placing his fork down. The conversation had gained the interest of Frank’s father at that point, who began looking between Frank and his mother. 

“Ma, I don’t really, I mean, I don’t need to go to a gym I don’t think. I’m not like, unhealthy or anything, and I get a workout at the Leathermouth shows-”

“But Frank, you’re never gonna find a girlfriend like this!” Ouch. That hurt. “You’re already turning thirty this year, Frank Anthony. You need to find a girlfriend soon, or else you’re gonna die alone.”

“Uh, mom I-”

“Jesus, Linda, leave the boy alone.” His dad butt in. “If he doesn’t want a girlfriend, then he doesn’t have to get a damn girlfriend. Hell, maybe he _has_ a girlfriend! Or a boyfriend, for christ’s sake!”

“Frank’s not even gay!” 

“Actually I’m bisexual, but-”

“See, he could have a boyfriend. And even if he doesn’t, it’s none of our damn business.”

“Frank, it’s not healthy for him to be at this size, nor is it very attractive. I just don’t want our son to end up alone or dying prematurely or anything like that! Don’t you worry about things like that for him?”

“What, are you implying I don’t love him or some bullshit? He’s our fuckin’ son, of course I worry about him.”

“Well obviously you don’t if you don’t care that he’s overweight or that he’s almost thirty years old and doesn’t have a partner-”

“Can you both just please stop fighting about me when I’m right here!” Frank finally shouted, scaring both of his parents. Their faces grew solemn, while Frank was still just angry. The rest of dinner was silent.

Since his parents lived two hours away from his house, Frank often spent the night in his old room when visiting. Tonight, he really didn’t want to stay, but it was late, and since the universe hated him, it was raining terribly, which would have made it hard to drive. The spare clothes he had in his drawer barely fit him anymore, but it was all he had there, so he changed into his pjs, brushed his teeth, and lied down on his slightly uncomfortable old bed, going on his phone and clicking on his Tumblr app. Any other night, he wouldn’t willingly go to bodyposi4boys if he was completely awake and had something better to do, but this wasn’t any other night. This night was one where Frank felt especially terrible, and needed something at least a little uplifting that couldn’t be found in some good music to help him go to bed or a comfortable night’s sleep. He tried going through the weight positivity tag the blog featured, but really, the generalized posts telling him he looked beautiful and handsome at any size weren’t doing much. So, instead, he resorted to going to the inbox to vent his feelings out. He probably wouldn’t get a response any time soon, but it felt good to type out his feelings, knowing that someone would listen later. God, he was turning into such a sap. He finished the small paragraph he had written, turned off his phone and the bedside lamp, and went to sleep.

•••

 **_Anonymous asked: How do you go about dealing with your parents criticizing your weight? I don’t want to confront them, because I know it won’t go anywhere, but I’m just having a hard time dealing with the shit they say to me. I know I shouldn’t let what they say get to me, but man, it really fucking sucks. Any advice?_ **  

_First off, I’m sorry to say your parents are being shitty to you about something so stupid as your weight! I definitely know how it feels to have someone important to you, especially someone like your parents, criticize you on that. What I always did, and what I always do whenever something like that happens, is remind myself that no one, not even my parents or my partner or anyone at that level of importance, can tell me how to feel about myself. My weight shouldn’t be any of their concern, because I am my own person who can make my own decisions, and I choose to love myself wholeheartedly. I know it’s hard to confront someone about something like that, but if it comes to that point where you need to confront them on how they make you feel, don’t be afraid to do so. Not even your parents should have the ability to make you feel bad about yourself, when you are perfectly fine just the way you are._

_Mod G <3 _

•••

When Frank woke up, he didn’t expect for his message to already be responded to, but there it was, and honestly, it gave him enough of a mood boost to get out of bed and go downstairs to face his parents. He still felt shitty, as he figured he always would, and he still thought Mod G was being overly happy about Frank’s problems, but Frank ignored his petty anger, just for the morning.

Breakfast with his parents was silent like dinner had been, and before he realized it, Frank was getting in his car again, driving away from his parent’s house, blaring music from his radio and letting his window down, the warm Summer air tousling around his hair. Frank felt good, for the first time in a while.

+++

After most Leathermouth shows, Frank felt energetic and aggressive and sometimes a little horny. But right now, he just felt anxious, paranoid, and hating himself once more. He had jumped into the crowd during the middle of the set because in the moment, it just felt right. But, the audience hadn’t really expected it, or something, and had failed to properly catch Frank. At most shows, the audience had always been able to catch him, even if they weren’t quite expecting it. But tonight, that hadn’t been the case. The audience hadn’t caught him, and Frank had ended up landing on quite a few unsuspecting people. There hadn’t been any reported injuries, but Frank couldn’t help but worry that he had hurt someone, crushing them under his weight. He hadn’t even cared that he had ended up in a rabid audience of people that were there to see him without security in a very close vicinity, he just cared about whether or not he had gotten too big to be able to crowd dive and crowd surf anymore.

Leathermouth shows were supposed to make Frank feel better about himself, to make him forget that he was a pathetic fat loser, if only for a couple of hours. The songs he wrote and later screamed out to fans who felt the same as him were supposed to be a way to vent. A way to cope. But right now, they weren’t doing shit.

With shaky hands, Frank managed to open his apartment door, not even greeting Sweet Pea as she barked at his arrival, pawing at his legs. He ripped off various pieces of sweaty clothing as he went through his apartment, diving straight for his bed when he reached his room. He had grabbed his phone from the pockets of his pants, but now that he had it, he wasn’t sure what he intended to really do with it. He still felt like shit, and he could have really use some support right about then. He could text or call Jamia to talk to her, since she would probably understand the best anyway, but he decided against it. She was probably already asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her up. He didn’t want to go to any of his other friends, since they would then probably see him as weak. Guys weren’t supposed to hate themselves. But Frank did, and was at a loss for what to do. 

Before he realized what he was doing, Frank was going into the Tumblr app, making his way to the bodyposi4boys blog. He intended to send an anonymous message to the blog, not caring who answered at that point, but he realized that it would take too long for them to answer it. And by that point, Frank might have done something stupid, which was a lingering thought in the back of his mind that was growing stronger by the second. So, he did something that, when he first started frequenting the blog, he had told himself not to do. He found that he was doing a lot of things he swore he was never going to do when it came to the blog. 

He went to his pms, typing in the blog name and hitting ‘message blog’.

•••

_frankieromustdie: Uh, hi. I know this sounds really dumb, but I’m having a really terrible time right now. I’m the lead singer for a band, and I usually crowd surf and stuff at my shows, and I did that tonight. But the audience didn’t catch me, and I’m afraid that I might’ve hurt someone, cause I’m on the heavier side and shit. I know it’s stupid and irrational, especially because, as far as I know, no one got hurt when I fell. But I still can’t help but worry. I would hate myself so much more if I knew my weight actually hurt someone else, and I’m really afraid I’m gonna hurt myself or some other stupid shit. I know it’s pathetic, but I don’t really have anyone else to talk to right now_

_bodyposi4boys: Hello lovely! I’m sorry to hear that the show didn’t go so well, and I hope you or anyone else that was there is free of injuries! Before I get into one of my hardcore speeches, I want to let you know you are never alone. I personally will always be here for you to talk to whenever you need it. Trust me, I’m kind of a hermit lmao. And, I know it’s hard, and I know it seems like a solution, but hurting yourself is only going to make things worse, rather than fixing them. If you really feel like you’re going to hurt yourself, I can give you a number for a suicide hotline, or one for a crisis hotline?_

_frankieromustdie: No, I don’t think I need one of those. I just need someone to talk to, you know? I’ll be okay_  

_bodyposi4boys: Okay, that’s great! I understand completely_

_bodyposi4boys: Now, for a very long and involved speech brought to you by yours truly_

_bodyposi4boys: I know it might seem sometimes like your weight could easily crush a person, but I’m telling you right now; it can’t. In the past, I’ve always been hesitant to lay on or even lean on people, especially past romantic partners, afraid I was gonna like, break all their bones cause I was so heavy. But trust me, you can’t! It’s literally physically impossible, even if you weigh like, 600 pounds. Your body distributes your weight over top of someone so that if you were to lay or fall on them or something, you wouldn’t crush them. Yeah, it might be a bit uncomfortable for them, but it won’t crush them. Plus, most people would tell you if you laying on them was so unbearably uncomfortable they couldn’t handle it. I can imagine you weren’t on top of these people long enough for it to be very uncomfortable, either, so really, I wouldn’t worry about it. If there were no reported injuries, then, yeah, you’re pretty much in the clear for guilt. I can also imagine that your fans at your shows don’t really care about your weight either, if they keep coming to your shows and all. They’re there for your music, not for your appearance_

_frankieromustdie: Thanks, man. I actually do feel better about that whole shit show lol_  

_bodyposi4boys: Aw no problem! That’s what I’m here for. If you ever need anyone to talk to or anything, me and the other mods are always here to talk. Plus, you can also pm us on our personal blogs if you want to do that, too!! Mod G <3 _

_frankieromustdie: Thanks, will do_

+++

It had been a week since the accident at the Leathermouth show, and, for lack of a better word, Frank felt okay about himself. Well, it wasn’t that he had magically learned to love himself over night, but he just didn’t think about his body all that much. In turn, he hadn’t gone on bodyposi4boys either. Things were back to normal, back to how they had been before Frank somehow ended up going on a ‘radical self love journey’. The term still made Frank laugh. He wasn’t really going on a ‘self love journey’, he was just tired of feeling like he wanted to fucking die because he weighed more than he used to.

Work was boring as fuck, as usual. But it payed the bills, and Frank got a bonus on gear and stuff for his band, so he wasn’t complaining all that much. He just kind of wished he had something better to do, honestly. 

God or whoever was listening must have answered his prayers, because his phone dinged, signaling that someone, on something, had messaged him. He glanced around the store, making sure that it was desolate as per usual, before taking a seat on the stool behind the counter of the drum section, where he was currently working.

•••

_hesitantalien: Hey, Frank, right?_

_frankieromustdie: Yeah, I’m Frank. Who are you?_

_hesitantalien: Oh, duh. It’s Mod G from bodyposi4boys. You can call me Gee_

_frankieromustdie: Well hey Gee. What’s up?_

_hesitantalien: I just wanted to check up on you after last week, make sure you’re okay and stuff. I meant to do it sooner, but my week has been kind of hectic_

_frankieromustdie: Yeah, I get that. I’m cool, don’t worry about it. What about you?_  

 _hesitantalien: Am I good?_  

 _frankieromustdie: That’s what I asked_  

_hesitantalien: Oh, I’m good. Thanks for asking!_

_frankieromustdie: No problem_

_hesitantalien: Can I ask something?_

_frankieromustdie: Shoot_

_hesitantalien: What’s with the url? Why frankieromustdie??_

_frankieromustdie: I’m actually not sure honestly lmao_

_frankieromustdie: It’s been my username for most things for like, three years now honestly_

_frankieromustdie: I think it was originally going to be the name for one of my old bands, but then we went with something else. I honestly don’t really remember_

_hesitiantalien: One of your old bands? How many bands have you had?_

_frankieromustdie: At this point, I don’t even remember lmao_

_frankieromustdie: Music is just kinda my life, you know?_

_hesitantalien: Def get that_

_hesitantalien: Was there any meaning behind frankieromustdie?_

_frankieromustdie: It’s pretty dark. And kinda edgy, honestly_

_hesitantalien: Yeah?_

_frankieromustdie: Yep_

_frankieromustdie: It’s dark because it’s exactly what it sounds like_

_frankieromustdie: It’s a suicide note, in a sense, I guess_

_hesitantalien: Oh_

_hesitantalien: Wow_

_hesitantalien: Frank, I’m sorry_  

_frankieromustdie: What for?_

_hesitantalien: Overstepping a boundary, there_

_hesitantalien: I mean, we just met, technically. I feel like that’s a really personal thing to tell a stranger_

_frankieromustdie: Eh, it’s really not that big of a deal to me anymore, honestly_

_frankieromustdie: I mean, I wouldn’t have it as my url if I didn’t think people were going to ask what it means_

_hesitantalien: Yeah, I guess so_

_frankieromustdie: So what about you?_

_frankieromustdie: What does hesitantalien mean?_

_hesitantalien: I like aliens and space, and I’m a nervous wreck_

_hesitantalien: What’s there more to say?_

_frankieromustdie: That’s fair_

••• 

Frank ended up spending the rest of his shift talking to Gee, and despite getting yelled at by his manager, he didn’t regret it. A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been happily talking to what he thought was the most annoying mod on the blog, but now here he was, talking to Gee like he was an old friend. And surprisingly, Frank was happily okay with that.

+++ 

Frank, in all honesty, expected the conversation he and Gee had that one day to be a one off thing. It was not. 

Every day for the next week, Gee would check in on Frank, and that would later spiral into a full conversation.  And the week after that, and the week after that. By the fourth week, Gee and Frank were fairly close friends. At some point someone had given the other person their number, and now Frank and Gee mostly texted, because Tumblr’s pm messaging system was glitchy as fuck. At around 4 o’clock that day, Frank awaited Gee’s daily ‘good morning!’ or ‘good afternoon!’ text.

•••

_Gee: Good afternoon!_

**_Hey Gee. What’s up?_ **  

_Gee: Nothin’ much, Frankie. Wbu?_

**_Ughhhh don’t call me Frankie_ **

_Gee: Shhh I’ll call you what I want to :P_

_Gee: Now, how’s your day going?_

**_Things are okay. Work kinda sucks, but that’s typical_ **  

_Gee: You work in a Guitar Center, right?_

**_Yep. Kinda sucks, but it’s a living. I get discounts on gear and shit for the band, though. That’s a plus_ **

_Gee: Damn, I’m seriously gonna have to come to one of your shows one of these days_  

**_You really think a pansy like yourself can handle a screamo show? They’re pretty intense, Gee_ **

_Gee: Psh, I can handle a screamo show, you pansy_

**_I’m the pansy?_ **

_Gee: You sure are. I’m def not the pansy here, Frankie_

**_You run a body positivity blog, Gee. I’m in a screamo band. You’re definitely the pansy here, no question_ **

**_You’re also scared of needles, while I have more tattoos than I do bare skin_ **

_Gee: Okay, okay! I’m kind of more the pansy here_

_Gee: Whatever_  

**_Awe, Gee, did I make you angry? I’m sorry, man_ **

_Gee: Nah, it’s alright_

_Gee: Okay, another question bout yourself_  

**_What’s up?_ **

_Gee: How old are you?_

**_Why?_ **

_Gee: Dunno, I’m curious_

**_Uh, I know it’s weird, but I’m twenty-nine. I know guys my age especially aren’t like, into the whole body positivity scene, but. Yeah_ **

_Gee: Well, if it’s weird for you to be on there, then it’s really weird for me. Especially cause I run the blog. I’m 34_

**_Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to be like, offensive or anything_ **

_Gee: Nah, it’s totally cool. I get what you were trying to say lmao_

_Gee: So, did anything interesting happen at Guitar Center today?_  

 **_Not really. Our store is always just kinda dead most days, so not much happens. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the store’s gonna get shut down soon. Hoping my band really takes off so that I can make it a living, you know?_ **  

_Gee: Aw, sorry to hear that. I’m sure your band will take off in no time. If not, the comic company I work for could always use a new secretary??_

**_Haha, very funny_ **

**_That was a joke, right?_ **

_Gee: Yes, Frank, it was indeed a joke._

_Gee: But I could imagine it would be cool to work with you nonetheless_

•••

Frank smiled.

+++

Frank was bored. So irrevocably, uninterestingly bored that it hurt. He had off work, and was a lonely fuck who had no friends, so that was out the window. He would go out drinking, which is something that he used to do when he was so disgustingly bored, but since he had learned that Gee was a recovering alcoholic, a fact he had learned during one of their not-so-common extremely late night conversations, he felt just a little more guilty than he used too about drinking for no reason.

So, Frank took a risk. He hovered over Gee’s contact for a few moments, before hitting the call button. It rang for a few moments, before he picked up. 

“Frank?” A nasally voice asked from the other end. “What’s up?” The voice was fuzzy and sort of hard to hear, simply because it was on a phone, but for some reason, it reminded Frank of the Gee he knew almost exactly. It was perfectly Gee.

“Uh, hey. Nothing’s up, which is why I’m calling you,” Frank laughed awkwardly, only mildly regretting his decision. Gee was probably busy, and didn’t want to be bothered, yet here he was. “I’m kinda bored, and I realized we’ve never talked on the phone before, so, yeah,”

“Oh! Yeah, we haven’t, have we?” Gee giggled, actually fucking _giggled_ , and Frank felt a fluttering feeling in his chest. Weird. 

“How… is your day?” Frank said lamely.

“Things are okay. Work is alright. The editor for the one short piece I’m working on right now is being a bitch, though. Very nitpicky.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Gee.”

“You keep calling me Gee, what’s up with that? Not that I don’t like it when people call me Gee, but, like, is there a reason?” Gee asked, leaving Frank utterly confused.

“Because that’s your name…?” Frank said. 

“What? Oh, oh! I’ve never told you my actual name, have I? I always meant to, I guess I’ve just forgot. Whoops.”

“Wait, what? What is it?”

“It’s Gerard. I’m Gerard.” Gerard. It was a strange name, but Frank sort of liked it. Strange was one of the biggest words Frank would use to describe Gee- or, Gerard now- so the name fit.

“Well, Gerard, happy to finally meet you, I guess.”

Gerard laughed again, and that strange feeling in Frank’s chest returned. “Happy to finally meet you too, Frank.”

+++

Before, Frank used to obsessively weigh himself. After each meal or snack on anytime he consumed some food or a drink, after every Leathermouth show or time he happened to exercise, whenever he found the excuse. He knew it was kind of an unhealthy behaviour, but it used to make him feel better. Most of the time. Whenever the numbers on the scale went lower. When they went height, which the numbers often did, no matter what he did or tried. 

After he started, almost unwillingly, going on the body positivity blog, and talking to Gerard, Frank had stopped checking his weight all the time. He didn’t need to. He wanted to a lot of the time, as it was a coping mechanism with his insecurity, but he really didn’t have the time to do it anymore. He was busy with work, or the band, or talking to Gerard. 

He had been sorting through his closet, cleaning out some clothes that he no longer wore or didn’t fit once more, when he found his scale. He had hidden it behind a pile of dirty laundry that he had just never cleaned, almost as a way to let his future self know that he didn’t need it.

But the minute Frank got his hands on the scale, he couldn’t help it. He placed it on the floor and stood on it, waiting for it to beep, letting him know it had read his weight. 

It beeped, and Frank looked down.

He had gained ten more pounds since he last checked.

Almost instantly, Frank felt like he was going to vomit. Not only was he disappointed that he had practically relapsed back into an old addiction, but he had let himself gain ten pounds. He was supposed to be _happy_ , and happy people _lost weight_ when they were happy with themselves. He had tried to eat healthier because he wasn’t upset anymore and felt like he could eat anything and be okay with it, and he had exercised regularly, as it helped clear his head. But he had _gained_ weight, not _lost_ it. It seemed like, no matter what Frank did, he couldn’t lose weight. He was a total fucking failure. 

Frank wasn’t one to cry often, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but burst into sobs. He had tried _so fucking hard_ , so hard to be happy and healthy, and was all for fucking nothing. He just wanted to go back to the way things were, when he was skinny and young and didn’t loathe the body he was in. If he hadn’t gotten sick, if he didn’t have such a shitty immune system, if he didn’t have to take those pills that made him like this, then he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t hate himself. He wouldn’t be fat and ugly and alone and depressed. 

But, on the other hand, he wouldn’t have met Gerard.

Gerard.

Frank stumbled his way out of his closet, tears blurring his vision badly. He felt around his nightstand for his phone, before finding the device. He sniffled before wiping his eyes, going to Gerard’s contact and hitting the call button. Gerard didn’t pick up at first, making Frank worry even more, but the other man soon picked up.

“Hey Frank! Couldn’t wait for my nightly call?” Gerard asked in his familiar cheery tone, making Frank calm down a bit more. 

“U-uh, yeah, su-sure.” Frank stuttered pathetically, tears still heavy in his voice.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Frank cursed his voice for giving away something was wrong so easily, but, he figured it wasn’t all that bad, because that’s why he called Gerard in the first place.

“It’s d-dumb, r-really.” 

“C’mon, you can tell me, Frank. It’s okay. I promise I won’t think it’s dumb.” Gerard’s tone softened.

“I-I j-just, I fou-found my sc-scale in m-my closet.”

“Mm-hm.” Gerard hummed. 

“And I, I used t-to weigh my-myself a lot. L-Like every day, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I ha-haven’t in a while. But after I f-found the sc-scale, I weighed myself a-again. A-And I gained t-ten po-pounds, Gee. I’ve be-been trying so fuh-fucking hard to b-be happy and t-to lose weight, but i-it’s all for god-goddamn nothing!” By the time he stopped talking, Frank was in near hysterics again. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Frankie. Everything’s okay.” 

“N-No it’s f-fucking not, G-Gerard! I’m so fat and ugly and lonely and I’m so fucking _tired_ of hating myself! Do you k-know how drai-draining it is to constatly nitpick e-every little t-thing about yours-self?!” Frank shouted. Gerard was quiet for a few moments, and Frank figured he went too far. He didn’t mean to yell at Gerard, but he had, and now he had probably fucked up their friendship. 

“I do know how draining it is, Frank. I’ve experienced it. I’m _still_ experiencing it. Every day, I have to remind myself that I’m not disgusting or unloveable or a burden to others. It’s very tiring. I know perfectly well what you mean.” Gerard’s tone still remained soft, not full of spite and malice like Frank expected it to be. “But, it’s worth it, I think. You’ll have bad days, and maybe today was one of those. But that doesn’t set back all the progress you’ve made. You just had one bad day, and that’s okay. We all have bad days. But, like I said, it’s worth it. Loving yourself is totally worth all the bad days that come along with it.” 

Frank sniffled. “I-I guess.”

“Just, just remember one thing, Frank. You, no matter what size you are, aren’t disgusting or unloveable. You are absolutely perfect, okay? And I’m not just saying that to say it or have them be empty compliments. I mean it.”

The words took Frank aback a bit. They had never even see each others faces. How was Gerard able to say that with such confidence?

“Uh, thanks. Thank you, Gerard.” 

“You’re welcome. Anytime. You okay now, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Better at least.” Gerard paused on the other end of the line.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about it, and, well, my family lives in Jersey. And, I’ve been meaning to visit them for a while, you know?” 

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, maybe, I could possibly come to a Leathermouth show, maybe. When’s the next one?”

Frank couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. 

“Next weekend, at a bar in Belleville. You know where that is?” 

“Do I know it? I grew up there, Frankie.” Gerard laughed. 

“Cool. I’ll text you the details, okay?”

“Sure, that’ll be great. You gonna be alright if I go? I gotta talk to my brother, tell him I’ll be visiting home.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine, Gee.”

“Alright, good. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

+++ 

Gerard tapped his fingers on the steering wheel nervously, as he pulled up to the venue tonight’s Leathermouth show was going to be at. The parking lot was nearly full of cars, which, in a weird way, made his heart swell. To see how many people were out here to see Frank, how many people loved his music enough to probably go out of their way to get tickets and see the show, made Gerard happy. He found a spot, leaving his car and showing his ticket at the door. The venue was small, but no less packed to the brim full of teenagers and young adults alike. Gerard, somehow, managed to worm his way close to the barricade, standing and waiting for Leathermouth to come on, bobbing his head to the music that was being played through the speakers. 

Soon, the lights dimmed, and the audience cheered. Four men came onto the stage, taking their rightful positions, and then, a last fifth member joined them. He approached the mic, taking it into his hands and looking out into the audience. He flicked his hair out of his face before speaking.

“My name is Frank Iero, these are my friends, and we’re a little project we like to call Leathermouth.” He paused, letting the audience cheer for him and his other band members. “This first song is about true love, and what a fake, bullshit lie it is.” And with that, Frank dove into the song, screaming his lungs out. Gerard was completely focused on Frank. He didn’t want to necessarily be, but he was. Frank was all he could focus on, the entire show.

While screamo wasn’t really Gerard’s favorite kind of music, he would admit that the show had been one of the most fun he had ever been to. The audience felt alive, thrumming like thousands of watts of energy resided in just their fingertips. Frank, and the rest of the band, were in a similar mood. Sure, Gerard had almost gotten sucked into the moshpit against his will once or twice, but it was worth it. To be able to see Frank, pretty much anything was worth it. Frank was amazing. Gerard had known that much from just talking to him over text and the phone, but now that he saw him, here, right in front of him, Gerard really saw how amazing Frank was. The way he could thrash around on the stage with such pure energy and excitement, pumping up the audience all while screaming his lungs out, left Gerard awestruck by the end of the show. Not to mention, although he couldn’t see him very well in the dim lighting of the bar, Frank was fucking beautiful. Then again, Gerard found a lot of things beautiful. He couldn’t shake the sense that Frank was beautiful in a different sense, though.

After the show, as everyone began to stream out, Gerard somehow pushed his way through the still-thrumming audience. He made his way to what he assumed to be the backstage door, where a large, burly security guard stood. Gerard gulped.

“Um, hi, I’m here to see Frank? Iero?” Gerard timidly said. The bodyguard laughed at Gerard. 

“Yeah, you, and everyone else here. Nice try, man.” He scoffed, causing Gerard to roll his eyes and sigh. 

“Look, I’m a friend of his. Can you, just, go back and ask him if I can come back? My name is Gerard.” He tried. The bodyguard gave him a skeptical look, but, surprisingly, went through the backstage door. Gerard waited, bouncing on his toes and worrying a bit. To think that he might actually get to meet Frank, to be right in front of him and talk to him face to face, and, maybe if Frank was okay with it, _hug_ Frank, Gerard almost didn’t think he could handle it. It was a strange feeling. Plus, they were both all sweaty anyway; Frank probably didn’t want to hug, at least not right now.

The security guard reemerged from the door, holding it open and gesturing in. “Alright, you check out. Go ahead. Last door on the left.” Gerard eyes went wide, but he nodded, quickly thanking the body guard and walking in. He wandered down a dark, otherwise unnecessarily long hallway, before he reached the last two set of doors lining the hall. He looked to the one on the left, which was open. Frank stood there, looking in the mirror and wiping down his face with a sweat rag. Gerard froze. Now that he was here, within feet of Frank, things didn’t feel real. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of his lungs, but in the best way possible. He hesitated for a few more moments, before knocking on the doorframe with a closed fist, scaring Frank. He whipped around, freezing with his eyes wide as he saw who was there.

“Gerard?” He asked, quietly.

“Frank.” Gerard all but sighed. He stepped forward, going across the room and stopping just in front of Frank.

“Hi.” Frank laughed. His cute little pot giggle had always been one of the things Gerard liked most about him. 

“Hey.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here! You’re here. Right in front of me.” 

“I know, I know.” Gerard agreed, laughing. Frank joined in too, and the two were a giggling mess within a few minutes. But, they went quiet, just looking at each other. “Can I… would it be weird if I hugged you?” Gerard asked, only a little bit nervous of the answer.

“‘Course not. C’mere.” Frank giggled, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck, burying his face in his sweaty neck. The two were a completely sweaty mess, but neither of them seemed to care. 

Hugging Frank was one of the warmest feelings Gerard had ever felt.

+++

Gerard spent the night at Frank’s house that night. It was awkward, in a weird way. There was a stuffy tension hanging in the air until Frank went to bed, and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why it was like that.

But Gerard was good company. They spent nearly the entire night watching trashy reality tv shows, laughing at the stupidity of it all, until the stupidity wasn’t funny anymore. The tension, though, seemed to grow when they had mutually decided that Gerard should sleep on the couch. Frank brushed it off and headed to his room, too tired to deal with the implications of what that tension meant, exactly. He went to sleep, having a strange dream about Gerard that he didn’t quite remember.

Gerard went back to his family’s house the next day, leaving Frank with a strange, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it, going about his day as he normally would. He had another show that night, and he didn’t need weird empty feelings or strange tension in his chest to distract him.

He only saw Gerard twice in the time he was still in Jersey; once when they had gone out for coffee on one of Frank’s lunch breaks during the week on a totally not date, and then second when Gerard was packing his things, and leaving again for New York. 

“You wanna come visit again sometime? I could show you around all the nice parts of Jersey City, hell, we could go to the beach or something, or maybe we could-”

“Of course, Frank. I was already planning to come back my next free weekend.” He laughed, putting the last of his bags in the trunk of his car.

“Really? Oh, shit, sweet!” Frank couldn’t help but lunge at Gerard, hugging him and surprising the taller man. Gerard awkwardly took a few moments to reciprocate the hug, which caused Frank to step back. Frank looked down, trying to hide the stupid blush he was now sporting. 

“Hey, Frank?”

He looked up. “Yeah?” And suddenly, Gerard was kissing him.

Everyone always says that when you kiss the right person, you feel sparks, fireworks, like the world is exploding around you but the only thing that matters is the person you’re kissing.

This kiss wasn’t like that. It was so, so much better.

The feeling of having Gerard’s lips on his, sweet and soft and sensual and yet strangely urgent, felt correct. That was the only word Frank could use to describe the feeling that was inside him. It was right. Like Gerard and his lips were supposed to be attached to each other. It felt safe and warm and right and like home.

And suddenly, Frank felt a little less lonely than he had before that moment.

It felt like forever,  but it could have been only a few minutes, until they weren’t kissing anymore, and were rather staring at each other wide eyed and lips swollen and pink, with Frank’s tattooed hand on Gerard’s cheek, brushing the soft, rosy skin with his thumb.

“You wanna come back to my place for a few days?” Gerard whispered, like the phrase was only for Frank to hear. Which, he guessed, it was. 

“Fuck yeah.” Frank sighed in response. The smile that split onto Gerard’s face was one of the biggest Frank had ever seen on him.

God, he was so pretty.

The thought shocked Frank, but in a weird way, it was much like the kiss. It was correct, and it belonged in Frank’s head. The sky was blue, water was wet, and Gerard was the most beautiful person Frank was sure he had ever seen in his whole life.

+++

The drive back to Gerard’s house was agonizing, what with the newfound knowledge that Frank was fucking infatuated with him, and that Gerard felt exactly the same.

When they got there, they both seemed antsy and excited, what with the way Gerard’s hands were fumbling when he attempted to unlock his door. Frank barely had the time to look around Gerard’s apartment, before he was shoved against the front door by Gerard, who peered down at Frank with a look of pure lust. It was fucking hot. Soon, Gerard was attacking Frank’s lips, causing him to forget about everything and anything around him that wasn’t Gerard. The kiss was passionate and frantic, and it felt like Frank was Gerard’s very life force.

“Let's take this to your room, yeah?” Frank pulled away from Gerard, just for a moment, to breathe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gerard sighed, dragging Frank towards the staircase.

The two were barely able to fall onto Gerard’s bed before they were making out again, this time with Frank taking control. He attacked Gerard’s neck, sucking and biting purple marks onto his neck. Frank nearly stopped once or twice, just so he could hear the noises Gerard was making. It wasn’t long before he was taking off Gerard’s shirt. 

Gerard was soft all over; soft arms, soft thighs, a soft tummy, and a pretty sweet ass, too. Frank had to step back for a second and take in all of Gerard, studying the pale, soft flesh that covered him.

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck.” Frank all but sighed, causing Gerard to blush. Gerard leaned forward, kissing at Frank’s neck, causing him to become distracted. So distracted, that he barely noticed when Gerard slipped his hands under Frank’s shirt, beginning to tug it up. He did notice it, though, and put his hands over Gerard’s, stopping him.

“Shh, it’s okay, Frankie.” Gerard whispered into his neck, rubbing his hands up and down Frank’s sides.

“I don’t, I’m not-” Frank stuttered, before Gerard shushed him again. 

“You’re amazing, with or without your shirt on, okay? Just let me take it off, it’ll be alright.”

Frank hesitated, just for a moment, before nodding again. He could feel Gerard smiling into his neck, before the other man tugged Frank’s shirt up slowly, before finally pulling it off. He backed away, like Frank had done. Frank, instinctively, wrapped his arms around his torso, not wanting Gerard to see his belly. Gerard pouted at this and grabbed at Frank’s hands, crouching down and kissing the spots that Frank had been covering.

“So, so, so pretty, Frankie.” He muttered in between kisses, causing Frank to laugh a little, with the way Gerard’s lips tickled him.

The laughter was soon replaced with a gasp and a moan, with the feeling of Gerard sucking a hickey onto the soft flesh of Frank’s belly.

+++

The next morning, Frank found himself staring at the long, full length mirror that opposed the wall of Gerard’s bed. Gerard was still sound asleep behind him.

The night prior, Frank had felt more comfortable with himself than he had in a long time. Gerard had praised him and complimented him nearly the entire night, even after the both of them had orgasmed. And now that he looked at himself, studied himself like he had a month or so ago, he found that his lip didn’t curl up in disgust when he poked at his belly, and he didn’t want to vomit when he squished his cheeks.

Gerard and him shared a lot of the same physical features, and if Frank found Gerard those physical features on Gerard so beautiful, why couldn’t he feel the same when they were on himself. 

Somehow, Gerard had woken up without Frank noticing, and he snuck up behind the other man, snaking his arm around his waist and burying his face into Frank’s shoulder.

“You okay?” He mumbled into the other man’s tattooed shoulder.

“Yeah.” He said. “I’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! feedback is always welcome in the comments, and kudos are always appreciated!!  
> recommend some more au's or whatever for me to write next in the comments, maybe!!


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